


A Week Later

by tigs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:59:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigs/pseuds/tigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week later, after all, and she was just starting to feel as if she was still able to fill her own skin. [Lorne/Weir. PG.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Week Later

Carson kept her and John in the infirmary for 24-hours before releasing them back into the city—none the worse for wear, he'd said—and by the end of the week after, they'd all gotten pretty good at pretending that nothing had happened at all. That she and Sheppard hadn't really played a deadly game with their teammates, for instance. That they hadn't threatened the lives of their entire expedition with bullets and poison. 

That they—that _she_ hadn't been the one to endanger their safe haven, to threaten to expose them all to the Wraith. 

"Yes, Elizabeth," Rodney had said at the first senior staff meeting After, after she'd apologized yet _again_. "But as someone who has also been forced to share his body with another consciousness, believe me when I say that a) I know how you feel, and b) we all know it wasn't your fault." 

At his side, Sheppard had nodded; it probably would have appeared lazy to anyone who hadn't worked as closely with him as she had over the last two years, but Elizabeth had thought it was more than a little frantic. 

She'd said, "I know, I know," and she did. She knew. But the fact remained that she'd been there, observing, the entire time. She'd been yelling, screaming, flinging her consciousness around in a way that she never had before, and yet her body had refused to respond. It hadn't done a single thing that she'd wanted it to. 

A week later, after all, and she was just starting to feel as if she was still able to fill her own skin. Like it fit her and only her, no room around the edges for anyone else. 

* 

Every morning now, first thing, she went for a run, thinking _forward, forward_ with every step that she took, conscious as never before of the signals that her brain was sending to her hips, knees, feet. She said 'hello' to every soldier, tech, scientist that she passed, relishing the movement of her lips, the words that did now come. 

It was in those moments, truly, that she started to feel like she was back in control. 

But still she remembered. 

She remembered the feeling of joy that Phebus had felt, having corporeal form again. The thrill of the chase, the elation of ignoring Elizabeth's protests inside her head, the sweetness of knowing that her war would end here, that she would win. Adrenaline had surged through her body in a way that Elizabeth had seldom known and even through her anger, her fury at what this woman had done to her, she'd been betrayed by her body's own reactions. 

She'd felt loose, free in a way she'd never felt before, and her body had relished it. She'd felt unwillingly good. 

And now, with her own consciousness firmly back in control, she knew what it felt like to have such freedom taken away. 

Now she knew it was possible to feel claustrophobic in her own skin. 

Which was the reason she found herself walking out onto a balcony near her office about ten minutes after Sheppard's team had left on their latest mission; it was the closest to freedom that she could get in the city. Fresh air, an endless seeming ocean stretched out in front of her. 

It helped, she'd discovered, to just breathe. 

* 

"Ma'am?" Major Lorne asked as he slid into the spot next to her, leaning up against the balcony railing. His elbows were propped up against the rail, his hands clasped in front of him, and while John would have been staring at her, one eyebrow raised, waiting for her to explain herself, Lorne was staring out at the water, a still presence at her side. 

"Major?" She glanced over at him, but still he didn't turn to look at her. He kept his eyes studiously forward. 

"Everything alright, ma'am?" he asked. 

"Yes," she said. "Of course." Then, after a moment: "Why?" 

"Because," he said, and _now_ he turned to look at her, a slightly concerned look in his eyes. "You've been out here for half an hour." A pause. "I just wanted to make sure that you weren't having one of those… premonitions of yours, I guess, like that time the Colonel and Dr. McKay ended up on that planet with the 10,000-year old Wraith." Then, after a moment, after her look, he continued. "I read the file." 

"No," she said, feeling the corners of her lips twitch up just a bit. "No premonitions." 

Lorne nodded, then turned back towards the ocean. She watched him as he closed his eyes, as he breathed in deeply, and gave no indication that he was getting ready to go back into the city. If anything, he seemed to settle in a little bit more. He moved, letting his elbows slide off of the railing so that his weight could come to rest on his forearms. His shoulders hunched further forward, as if he was just starting to relax. 

When he turned to look at her again, his eyes wide and blue, he said, "Are you doing okay?" His elbow had come to rest near her body, just a bare inch away, and she knew that if either of them shifted at all— 

—it would be too close. 

This was not unusual, him coming to find her while Sheppard was away. He always had a good excuse, yes. Something that needed to be discussed, a question, or perhaps a story that he thought she would want to hear. She had seen—saw—the way that his eyes would occasionally follow her when he thought that she wasn't paying attention. She noticed the way that he was always ready with a smile. 

She knew what he would never say, what neither of them could ever acknowledge; she only knew these things, of course, because she was watching too. 

"I'm doing fine," she said. "It's just… good to be alone in my own body." 

She hadn't meant it for a joke, but Lorne laughed anyway, a sound that made her smile. 

"I'm starting to feel a little bit left out," he said. "First there was McKay and Lieutenant Cadman, then you and the Colonel. I'm starting to wonder when I'm going to be the one sharing space with someone else. I mean, the way things have been going so far since I've been here? It's bound to happen sooner or later." 

"I wouldn't feel too envious, if I were you," she said, smiling herself. "It's not an experience I'm keen to repeat." 

Lorne nodded, his smile giving way to seriousness again. "But you're okay, right? There haven't been any lasting effects?" He paused, then ducked his head, and Elizabeth thought that she could see a hint of a blush tingeing his cheeks. "If you don't mind my asking, that is." A pause, then: "Never mind, ma'am. It's none of my business." 

Before she truly realized what she was doing, she'd reached out to place her hand on his arm, stilling his restless shifting, and she said, firmly, "I don't mind." And, "I'm fine. I'm feeling more myself every day." 

She could feel the warmth of Lorne's body beneath the cloth of his jacket, the subtle twitching of his muscles. How absolutely still he was being. How he hardly even seemed to be breathing. She watched him as he slowly looked down at her hand, at his arm, then the way he looked back up at her, the expression in his eyes naked. The want naked, there, real, simmering closer to the surface than Elizabeth had ever let herself notice before. 

Before she could pull back, though, before she could stammer an excuse, or watch him make his own, his radio crackled, and they both pulled back in unison. 

"Lorne," he said after tapping his earpiece. Then, a moment later: "I'll be right there." 

He looked at Elizabeth with something resembling regret on his face, and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I've got to—" and she said, "Of course, of course," but on her tongue, the words tasted like relief, like the ashes of regret for a moment that could never be. 

* 

A week later and she could still feel a shadow of Phebus at the back of her skull, at the edge of her consciousness. She could still remember what it had been like to be Phebus, to feel the freedom of not worrying about consequences. Of taking what she wanted. 

It was an itch beneath her skin, that want. Strong, there. 

_It wasn't you_ , Rodney had said, but now, in a way, it was. She'd experienced how Phebus lived, after all, and it was a part of her now. She couldn't go back. 

Sometimes, she wasn't really sure that she wanted to. 

* 

She walked the halls for an hour that night before she finally ended up at Major Lorne's door. She felt a surge of adrenaline when she knocked, then another surge of nervous denial. Her brain clicked through excuse after rote excuse, reasons that she would need to come see him, not John, but when he answered the door and saw her, a pleased look flashing through his eyes, lighting his face, all excuses fled. 

Before he could speak, she said, "May I come in?" and appropriate or not, she felt a thrill at doing this, at taking what she wanted, what she knew they both wanted. It felt as good as she remembered. 

He nodded and stepped aside. Said, "Ma'am?" 

He was looking at her curiously now, and she thought, maybe, that she could see just a speck of hope in his eyes. That he knew what she was about to do. About to say. That he would follow her in this, regardless of the consequences— 

—and suddenly, in that moment, the feelings of joy, of excitement, the thrill, turned to dust in her mouth, in the back of her throat. 

Because this was Phebus, she suddenly realized, Phebus' shadow, the memory, telling her that it was okay to do this. This was Phebus' sort of thrill, and Elizabeth, she very well knew, was not Phebus. She didn't want to be Phebus, not even if it meant taking what she wanted. 

It wasn't just her choice, after all, it was his, too, and she hadn't gotten where she was by being reckless. She wouldn't be doing anyone any favors by letting a promising officer with a full career ahead of him risk it all for her. Not when there was so much at stake, so many things that could go wrong. 

Her eyes slipped closed and as she took a deep, calming breath, trying to ignore the disappointment flooding her system, she thought she could hear Phebus screaming at the back of her head, rather like Elizabeth had been screaming once upon a time, and that made her feel even more certain that she was doing the right thing. 

She opened her eyes again and said, "I'm sorry, Major. I know that it's late. I just wanted to say thank you for today. For checking on me today, out on the balcony." She paused, swallowed, and when she continued, her voice sounded too rough in the darkness. "There are times when I can still feel her in me, when I find myself thinking thoughts that aren't mine, and I—" 

The spark of hope flickered out in Lorne's eyes, and now it seemed that she could taste the ashes of a world of 'might have been's. 

"Anytime, ma'am," he said, and again Elizabeth found herself saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should—" 

She turned towards the door and he didn't try to stop her. Didn't try to change her mind, even though part of her—the Phebus part, but just a little bit of Elizabeth, too—wanted him to. He just stepped forward, as if showing her out. Before he activated the door, though, he paused. 

He said, "Elizabeth," and his voice was soft, a caress, and she wanted to give in. Oh, she wanted to give in. But then he smiled, a brittle gesture, and said, "I understand. And I'm sorry, too." 

It was her turn to nod, and so she did, nothing left to say. One step forward and his door was sliding open, another step and she was outside, another and the door was sliding shut again. She stopped and stood there, breathing, for several long seconds. Then she turned in the direction of her quarters and started walking back down the hall. 

End


End file.
